Course Correction
by Layla Reyne
Summary: Stefan learns that no matter how hard he and Damon try to change the course of Elena Gilbert's life, fate always has a way of bringing each person exactly where he or she is supposed to be. End-of-series/Three-shot/Complete.
1. Goodbye

**Course Correction**

**By: Layla Reyne**

**Summary: **Stefan learns that no matter how hard he and Damon try to change the course of Elena Gilbert's life, fate always has a way of bringing each person exactly where he or she is supposed to be. End-of-series/Three-shot.

**A/N:** So, this is one of my end-of-series headcanons. Major character deaths all around. Don't say I didn't give you a tissue warning!

_Many thanks to Sandra (dutchtreat) for beta reading multiple times, to Chelley (chellethebelle), Kate (This Is My Escape), Nia (Niadk) and Kat (delenaispainful) for their pre-reading input and to Nitsi (sm0lderhalders) for another awesome cover. All very much appreciated, ladies!_

**Disclaimer: The characters and other things from The Vampire Diaries are not mine. All due credit to the rightful holders.**

* * *

_**Chapter 1 – Goodbye**_

"Are you sure?"

Standing in the middle of Damon's bedroom, I look back and forth between our resident witch, who has just laid out a plan – a spell – that will alter the fate of every person in this room, and my brother, who is sitting up against the massive wooden headboard of his bed, with dried tear tracks on his face and desperation in his eyes, as he holds an unconscious Elena in his arms. I can still hear her heartbeat, barely.

We won the battle – we defeated Silas – but we lost the war when the last Hunter came calling. After learning of his sworn enemy's doppelganger, he vowed to rid the world of the final vestige of Silas, to make absolutely certain that there was no possibility of his resurrection, to kill me once and for all. He was seconds away from fulfilling his mission, from unloading a clip full of super-charged werewolf-venom-laced bullets into my heart, when my blonde best friend stepped in between us, ready to take the impact herself. But in the last fraction of a second before the hail of bullets lodged themselves into Caroline's chest, Elena pushed her out of the way.

I have never heard anything more heartbreaking than the howl that was wrenched from my brother's throat, as the bullets ripped through Elena's body, dropping her to the ground. And I have never heard anything more frightening than the predatory growl that followed, as Damon lunged for the Hunter, holding him down while Jeremy delivered blow after killing blow to his head. But none of that mattered; the damage was already done. Elena was too young, a newborn as far as vampires go, and too weak, after being held in captivity for days while the Hunter tried to torture my location out of her. The super dose of werewolf venom would kill her before we could get Klaus back to Mystic Falls and, since we thought the danger had passed, we were stupid enough to not keep a vial or two of his blood on hand.

"Just do it, Bonnie," Damon orders from over the crown of Elena's head, his fingers threading through her matted hair as he pulls her closer, protecting his mate in these final moments.

Nodding, Bonnie's eyes glance around the room at each other person here. "Are you all sure?" she asks calmly, yet her question is heavy with the significance of the decision we are being asked to make.

"No question," Jeremy answers, without hesitation, staring down at Elena from where he stands next to the bed. I see his eyes flicker to Damon's, and my brother gives the younger man – the one who has become his ally and closest friend over the past few months – an appreciative nod.

Caroline, who's been curled up in the leather chair next to the bed, crying softly, unfolds her legs and stands slowly, wiping the tears from her eyes. "It'll be hard, going back," she says, her voice shaky at first but then surging with the determination that I've come to respect, to depend on whenever I needed reminding that there was more to life than loving the dying girl in my brother's arms. "But Elena saved my life, and not just today. It's the least I can do for her."

"It's all I've ever wanted," Matt confesses from where he stands in the bathroom doorway, shrugging his shoulders unapologetically when Damon snarls in response.

Finally, Bonnie turns to me with a silent, expectant look, and I'm faced with the same damn decision that seems to define my very existence.

Eyes trained on my brother, I step toward the bed. "If we do this, Damon, you'll-"

_Die_, the word rings in my head, finishing my plea, but there's no sound, because Damon's hand is around my throat, lifting me off of the ground and pinning me to the opposite wall. There are shouts and movement all around us – Caroline screaming as she tries to pull Damon off of me, Jeremy settling behind Elena after Damon leapt from the bed, and Bonnie yelling at Matt to get back, sending him flying into the bathroom with a blast of power.

But all of that commotion pales in comparison to the storm raging in my brother's clear blue eyes – hate and love, warring equally, because I hesitated, because my first instinct, when faced with life and death, is always to choose him. In that instant, I know that he would have made a different choice – then, now, always. He's told me before; he's proven it a thousand times over. That's the difference between the two of us. As much as he loves me, and by now, I know that he does, he will still always choose Elena. Over her friends, over her family, over me, and especially over himself. Whether it's right or wrong is a moot point; it simply is what it is.

"It doesn't matter," Jeremy's voice interrupts our stare down. "If she dies, he'll take off his ring and walk out into the sun. Won't you, Damon?"

Keeping his gaze locked with mine, my brother releases my neck, letting me fall gracelessly to my feet. "Yes," he answers defiantly, leaving no doubt that he intends to die by the morning, one way or another.

"Stefan?" Bonnie repeats her question aloud, though it is all but rhetorical at this point. Damon has made my decision for me.

"Yes," I concede. I will abide by my brother's dying wish to sacrifice himself for the woman that he – that we – love.

* * *

"Explain to me how this works, one more time," I say, draping my arms across the high back of one of our dining room chairs.

Bonnie looks up from the table full of grimoires, herbs and talismans. "The witches are giving me the power to perform a reset, to take us all back in time, to before…" Her words trail off and she casts her eyes down, away from mine, but her silence is not without words, not without meaning. The implication is one that I am personally familiar with, an old friend of mine that has rattled around in my head for years.

_Before I returned to Mystic Falls. Before Damon and I came into Elena's life. Before we left a path – a life full – of death and destruction in our wake._

Reaching across the table, I give Bonnie's hand a gentle squeeze, letting her know that I don't take offense at what is plainly the truth. She looks up, eyes brimming with tears, before brushing them away with her other hand and clearing her throat. "It'll save Elena, bring Caroline back to life, and Jeremy won't be a Hunter anymore. Things will be normal again. It'll be as if the two of you were never here; they won't remember anything."

"But Damon has to die," I snap, more harshly than I intended.

Withdrawing her hand from mine, Bonnie goes back to work, quickly gathering the things she needs for the spell that will end my brother's life. "The spirits require a sacrifice, Elena's sire, and then the clock will reset to the moment before they first met."

"The witches are finally getting what they've always wanted," I chuckle bitterly, looking away and fighting back tears of my own. "Damon. Despite the fact that he's spent lifetimes keeping you Bennett women safe, and never mind all that he went through to find Lucy and help bring you back from the dead."

"It's actually not about Damon this time," Bonnie replies, and my head whips back around, keenly interested in why the witches are doing us this 'favor.' "They need to rebalance this and the Other Side. If the doppelgangers, the both of you, stay hidden, then Klaus never breaks the curse, Silas is never awoken, and all of the other countless tragedies that led to us dropping the veil, throwing the order of things so far out of balance, will never come to pass."

"But there are too many variables," I argue, thinking of Katherine, Isobel, Rose, Elijah, Klaus and all of the other people that have come looking for the Petrova doppelganger over the years. "Someone has to remember in order to keep those variables in check."

"It's my spell, I'll remember," she states matter-of-factly, before taking a deep breath and looking up at me with somber olive eyes. It's as if the weight of the entire world suddenly falls on my shoulders. I know what she's going to say next, and I dread it with every fiber of my being. "And so will you."

"Bonnie, I can't," I recoil, shaking my head as I pace around the dining room. "I couldn't stay away from her the first time. What makes you think this time will be any different?"

"Because now you know the hell that we'll put her through," Damon's voice comes from the parlor behind me, stopping me in my tracks. "The evil that we brought into her life."

Spinning around, I find him calmly pouring two glasses of bourbon by the drink cart. "But Katherine or Klaus or someone else will find her eventually," I protest.

Walking over and handing me a glass, Damon reaches out his other hand and firmly grips my shoulder. "Which is why, brother, you'll make sure they don't this time. You'll make sure that she has a normal, happy, human life," he says, delivering those words that were once so mocking with complete and utter sincerity now. "But from afar," he adds solemnly, tipping back his glass and swallowing his bourbon in a single gulp.

Following his lead, I down mine in one swallow, before setting the glass aside and hanging my head, scrubbing my hands over my face as I inhale a shuddery breath. I know Bonnie and Damon are right. Staying out of Elena's life, protecting her without giving in to my selfish need to know her, is the best chance she'll have at a normal life.

Only it's not that simple. There won't be a life to protect without one very important interference. Surely, they'll grant me this one reprieve.

"I have to be there to save her from the accident when her parents died," I say, looking up at my brother beseechingly, before glancing across the table at Bonnie. "You said earlier that the clock would reset to when she first met her sire. She didn't meet Damon until several months after the accident."

Bonnie's eyes drift over to Damon. "Do you want to tell him or should I?"

"Tell me what?" I bark, my head snapping back and forth between the two of them.

"That day at the Boarding House," Damon says, taking my mind back to the afternoon I found the two of them in our parlor, standing too close for strangers and seemingly entranced by one another. "That was actually my third first meeting with Elena."

"What?! How?!" I gasp, my eyes tracking him as he casually walks to the other side of the table, helping Bonnie gather her things.

"The second time was in the cemetery, only I was a crow," he smirks, adding a mock cawing sound that causes him and Bonnie to laugh, and I want to throw things because making jokes is the last thing either of them should be doing at a time like this.

"And the first?" I demand, bracing my arms against the edge of the table, preparing myself for some long kept secret that I sense is about to blow my world apart.

"About a mile up the road from Wickery Bridge, ten minutes before the accident."

"You're lying," I sneer, glaring at my brother incredulously.

"He's not," Bonnie answers for him.

Deflating at the truth I see in both of their eyes, my elbows give out and I reach for the arms of the chairs on either side of me to stay upright. "How come she never told me?"

"Because I compelled her to forget it," Damon shrugs. "She only remembered when she transitioned."

More questions are on the tip of my tongue – why didn't Elena tell me then, what else did he compel her to forget – but before I can get the words out, Damon's attention shifts to Bonnie, the tailspin he has thrown me into all but forgotten. "Can you talk to the witches, buy me a few extra minutes with her on that night? There's something I need to set right."

"I'll try," Bonnie says, laying a hand on his arm in an uncharacteristic show of sympathy, before she picks up one last amulet and heads for the stairs.

"I don't understand, Damon," I mumble weakly. The thoughts in my head are swirling too fast to make any sense of them, and amidst all of that confusion is the increasing certainty – and abject terror – that I'm about to lose everyone that is important in my life.

"You think that you're the one that brought all of the bad stuff into her life – vampires, hybrids, _me_," he smirks, before his eyes fill with regret and the smug grin vanishes from his face. "But you're not. _I'm_ the one that sent her running after it, which is why I have to do this. Because _I'm_ the one that set all of this in motion."

"Damon," I start, but he doesn't give me a chance to finish, leaving a gust of wind in his wake as he bolts for the stairs.

By the time I recover from the revelations of the past five minutes and race up the stairs after him, I find Damon back in his bedroom, wrapped in a weeping Caroline's arms. "You're an asshole," she mutters between sniffles and sobs. "But you are an asshole that's saved my life more times than I can count. And I'm sorry that I never said thank you before."

Damon, to my surprise, is actually returning the hug, not just patting her on the back and placating her hysterics like he usually does. That doesn't stop him from replying sarcastically, though. "It's okay, Blondie. If you had, I might have died of shock and then I wouldn't be here now to save your ass again."

"Arg," she huffs, shoving him away with a watery smile. "You're impossible."

"I know," he replies, waggling his brows and flaring his eyes wide. Turning to Matt, he holds out his hand. "Take care of her," he says, glancing over at Elena's too-still form lying in the bed.

"I will," Matt answers, shaking his hand and sealing the promise that he'll soon forget, but caring for Elena is so engrained in the Quarterback's soul that I have no doubt he'll keep it anyways.

When Jeremy pulls Damon into a hug, there are no words – just two grown men that I can see and hear struggling to keep their sobs in check. For the first time, I have an idea of what it must have been like when Ric died in Damon's arms, and the injustice of it all comes crashing down around me. Damon trusts cautiously and loves fiercely, and everyone he's ever held dear has been torn from him too early. Now, he's the one being forced to rip himself out of the picture, out of time, out of his loved ones' lives and memories. I turn away, taking huge gulps of air that I don't need, to try and rein in my own tears.

Hearing the bed frame creak, I still, leaving my back turned and giving Damon the privacy he needs to say goodbye to Elena. He'll see her again shortly, if Bonnie is able to broker the deal he's asked for, but something tells me this message and the one he'll give to her then are vastly different. I hear him scoot onto the bed, pulling Elena into his arms as he settles back against the headboard once more. I'm half expecting a long drawn out speech, because that's what I'd do, given the circumstances. I'd be a blubbering idiot, confessing everything and nothing to the woman that I love before going to my death. But Damon isn't me.

"Thank you, for loving me and making me happy. Please forgive me."

Damon's voice is a whisper, too quiet to reach the humans' ears, but not for us vampires. His simple, heartfelt goodbye nearly sends me to my knees, and by the renewed stream of tears I see cascading down Caroline's face, I know that she heard it too. Behind me, I catch the sounds of fingers threading through hair, a kiss placed softly against skin, and the momentary uptick of Elena's heartbeat before it slows to a sluggish crawl. And then the smell of bourbon-soaked tears and fresh vampire blood assault my nostrils.

Turning, I see my brother dripping blood from his wrist into a bowl in Bonnie's hands, his face streaked with tears while his eyes blaze with determination. "Don't get dead, witchy. You'll need to stay alive for the spell to hold."

"I won't," she says softly, stepping back and beginning to chant.

Wrapping both of his arms back around Elena, Damon pulls her tightly to his chest, tucking her head beneath his chin. "Remember what I said," he implores, his gaze darting up to mine. "About a mile up the road from the bridge. Meet me there, and bring a stake," he orders, before closing his eyes and burying his nose in Elena's hair.

"Propago," Bonnie chants one last time, and then everything goes black.

* * *

As I come to, I immediately sense that the time and the place are different. Gone is the winter chill that blew through the Boarding House, replaced by a warm, spring breeze that is thick with humidity and the smell of dirt and leaves. Gone are the wood-paneled walls of Damon's bedroom, replaced by the tall, spindly pine trees swaying above me and the cool, damp earth forming a bed at my back. Gone are my friends and family, replaced by forest creatures that give me a generous fifty foot radius, understanding innately that a predator is in their midst – one that is angry, hurt and alone.

Closing my eyes to this new reality, I reach inside of my mind for that elusive switch, ready to numb the tidal wave of pain and heartache that is only a memory away, but then a familiar voice calls to me.

"Remember what Damon said."

Bonnie's words echo through the trees, reminding me that the spell is not yet complete and Elena's life is still in jeopardy. Snapping open my eyes and jumping to my feet, I take a moment to determine where I am exactly before sprinting through the woods toward the place I am supposed to be.

Crossing Wickery Bridge on my way, I quickly scan the concrete railing for damage, sniff the air for burnt rubber and listen for sounds of struggle beneath the water. Convinced that I am not too late, I race the last mile up the road to where Damon told me to meet him, stopping only when I slam into an invisible wall at the edge of the trees twenty feet from the road.

"Sorry about that," a soft chuckle rumbles behind me. Turning my head, I see Bonnie approaching through the trees, tucking her cell phone into her back pocket. "Should have given you a heads up, but you were moving too fast."

"Vampire hazard," I smile wryly, dragging myself off of my ass and brushing the dirt from my jeans before pulling her into a hug. "Did it work?"

"See for yourself," she answers, stepping out of my embrace and nodding toward the road. Cautiously approaching the transparent barrier, I peer through it like a window into another time – a night several years ago when my brother is lying in the middle of the road, waiting for his next victim, and an unsuspecting Elena is walking right into his trap.

"El-" I start to yell. Damon's head whips to the side, his blue eyes shooting daggers at me, and a half second later, the skull-crushing pain that I know all too well drops me to the ground.

When the pain recedes a few excruciating moments later, Bonnie is standing over me, her booted foot pressing down against my throat with more force than should be humanly possible. "I was able to get Damon the extra time that he asked for. These are his last minutes with Elena. Not interfering is the least we can do for him, don't you think?"

"But it's a trick," I whisper hoarsely around the pressure on my windpipe, my hands frantically clawing at her ankle. "He's going to hurt her."

Shaking her head, Bonnie looks down at me with that same judgmental glare she usually reserves for Damon. "You still automatically think the worst of him, don't you? Hasn't he proven us all wrong enough times by now?"

She's right, of course, and I curse myself for the instinct that I can't seem to rid myself of, even as my brother prepares to sacrifice his own life to save all of ours. Properly chided, I avert my eyes, releasing Bonnie's ankle and letting the tension out of my body, relaxing back into the ground. "I'm sorry."

"He didn't kill her the first time, Stefan," she says, taking her foot off of my throat and stepping back. "Killing Elena now would defeat the purpose."

Nodding, I pull myself up off of the ground and turn back to the barrier, watching this secret of theirs play out before my eyes. By now, they're both standing on the road, slowly moving toward each other in that magnetic way I always noticed and futilely tried to ignore.

I imagine what this moment must have been like for Damon the first time around, stumbling upon an exact replica of the woman he'd been obsessed with for over a century. I'm sure he was just as intrigued as I was. But where it took me months to approach Elena again after the accident, Damon confronts her head on and has her talking about her love life less than a minute after creepily appearing before her on a deserted road.

But this isn't the same Elena that I met several months later. The differences are remarkable. This girl is open, unguarded and vivacious, and together with the playful, flirtatious inflection of her voice, she is absolutely stunning. After saving her from the accident, I was obsessed with knowing Elena, but it's clear now that I only ever knew one part of her – the tragic girl whose parents had died. I was the perfect company for that sort of misery, as I was all too familiar with it myself. But Damon had met them both; he knew that this vibrant, young woman was buried beneath the mire of death and destruction.

I laugh harshly to myself, realizing that I never stood a chance. The day that Elena decided to live again – when she declared that she wanted to be free, happy and unpredictable – it wasn't the sire bond or vampirism that led her into my brother's arms. It was this girl on the road, finally crawling out from under the rubble and breaking her silence, seeking out the man who knew _her_.

"You understand now?" Bonnie says, coming to stand beside me. I nod, and she gently places a hand on my shoulder. "Took me a while too."

"What did he think he needed to fix, though?" I ask, recalling what my brother had mentioned in the dining room earlier.

"Just listen," she replies, and I turn back to Damon and Elena, focusing on their conversation.

"And you don't want it?" Damon asks her.

"I don't know what I want," Elena admits honestly with a shrug.

"Well, that's not true. You want what everybody wants."

"What, mysterious stranger who has all the answers?" Elena asks, head tilting to the side and eyes dancing with mirth.

Damon laughs, looking over and meeting my eyes for the briefest of moments before turning back to Elena. "Well, let's just say I've been around a long time. I've learned a few things."

"So, Damon, tell me. What is it that I want?"

My brother steps closer, and I see one side of his mouth pull up in a half smirk, his eyes brightening for a split second, before a veil of resignation slides over his face, dulling his eyes and flattening out his smile. Furrowing his brow, he takes another step closer, and if I'm not mistaken, he's compelling her.

"You want to spend the summer with your friends and family, and then you want to get out of this town for a while – a long while. Maybe go stay with some nice family friends, study hard and finish up high school at the top of your class, so that you can go to college wherever you want. You'll meet new boys, living boys. You're going to drink a few beers, take a lot of writing classes. You'll do whatever you want to do." A single tear runs down Damon's cheek, and I can see him swallow hard, struggling to get the rest of his words out. "You're going to have a better life, Elena."

"That's not what he told her the first time, is it?" I quietly ask, glancing over at Bonnie.

"No," she sniffles, wiping tears from her own eyes. "He told her something else, something he's afraid may have set her on a more dangerous path. It's a ridiculous notion, but it has always bothered him."

"But that's not what you want, is it?" Elena says, her compassion-filled voice drawing my attention back to them, as she closes the distance between her and Damon, cupping his cheek with her hand and brushing away the solitary tear track on his face.

My mind is racing with questions. Was he compelling her? Did the spell work? Or does Elena just inherently know that she is the only person that can comfort him? Deep down, is what she really wants, who she's always wanted from this very moment on, Damon?

I watch as my brother lets his eyes slip shut, his hand coming up to hold Elena's to his face as he nuzzles his cheek into her palm. I can hear her erratic heartbeat from here and smell her salty tears.

"I'm sorry," Damon mumbles, pressing a lingering kiss into her palm, before opening his eyes and locking them with hers. Elena's brow creases in confusion and Damon raises his other hand, smoothing his thumb across her forehead before trailing it down her cheek, returning the comforting gesture. They stand like that, silently gazing at each other, for what feels like an eternity, until a car horn blows behind them.

"It's my parents," Elena says, lowering her hand and taking a step back, turning toward the approaching car.

Grabbing her by the wrist, Damon pulls Elena back to him, and by the wide flare of his eyes and the firm tone of his voice, I am certain that he is compelling her now. "I want you to get everything that you're looking for, but right now I want you to do two things for me, Elena. One, you're going to tell your parents to go the long way home, to avoid Wickery Bridge, and you're going to stay away from that bridge for the rest of your life. It's not safe."

Elena nods robotically, and I fall against the barrier, air rushing from my lungs, as I realize what my brother has just done. He has saved her life and her family's life, ensuring that _his_ Elena will never be buried again, assuming I am able to hold up my end of this deal.

"And two," he continues, "You're going to forget that this happened. Now, close your eyes, Elena." Leaning forward, Damon places a gentle kiss on her cheek before whispering "Goodnight" into her ear, and to anyone who's really listening, myself included, it's unmistakably 'I love you.' I'm a fool for not recognizing it in every other parting I've overheard between them.

Damon is by my side before Elena opens her eyes, and we watch with bated breath as her parents' car drives a couple of feet forward, before her father hits the breaks and hangs a U-turn in the middle of the street, turning them away from Wickery Bridge. I catch my brother as he sags with relief.

"Thank you," he says, looking up at Bonnie, who continues to surprise me by throwing her arms around Damon and hugging him fiercely.

"You're welcome. I'm just glad it worked."

Pulling back, his serious eyes belie the grateful smile on his face. "I meant what I said before, witchy. Don't get dead."

"Don't worry about me," she replies confidently. "I know what I can do now, and don't you dare fucking haunt me," she chuckles, narrowing her eyes and shaking a finger at him. "I'll give you two a minute," she says, shooting a quick glance at me before stepping a few feet away.

"I was never going to get the girl," I say, shoving my hands in my pockets and staring down at the ground.

"Not this one," Damon concurs, bringing my eyes back up to his. "But as to the other one, you know what you have to do?"

"Yes," I tell him. After witnessing the lengths to which Damon is willing to go to save Elena, to give her the normal life that she deserves, I am more resolved than ever to make his sacrifice worth it. "I'll find Katherine," I assure him. "And I'll make sure that neither she nor Klaus nor anyone else ever comes after Elena. I'll protect her."

"From afar," he reminds me, making sure I understand the parameters. I know that staying out of Elena's life will keep her safe, so I nod in agreement, despite my dread and anxiety over the task ahead. But what of her part in all of this…

"What if your compulsion doesn't hold, after you die?"

"Worth a shot," he shrugs. "Bonnie will be there to steer her away from danger, as need be, and if nothing else, Elena will remember a stranger and a strange warning. Maybe that's enough."

_Enough_. It's a word that has passed between us more times than I can count, an ever-present measuring stick from the time we were children that Damon usually found himself on the short end of. But as we stand here now, I don't think I will ever be able to measure up to him.

"You were always enough, brother," I say, pulling him into a crushing embrace. "I'm sorry for not seeing that sooner."

"Better late than never," he quips, pulling me tighter. "Do me a favor?"

"Anything."

"When it's done, throw my ashes off of Wickery Bridge."

"Damon," I gasp, leaning back and meeting his eyes.

"Do it," he orders, I think to me, but then suddenly I feel him stiffen in my arms. Looking over his shoulder, I see Bonnie standing behind him, staring mournfully up at me. Glancing down, my eyes go wide at the sight of the stake protruding from his back, thrust up beneath his ribs and into his heart. Reaching one hand behind my back, I feel for the stake that was in my waistband and discover that it is missing.

"Bennett witch," Bonnie explains, as she helps me ease Damon to the ground. "I had to be the one to finish it."

Damon manages a weak eye roll. "Bet the witch bitches loved that."

"Be careful what you say," Bonnie laughs through her tears, giving his hand a final squeeze before standing and walking toward the increasingly foggy road. "You'll be their bitch now," she smirks over her shoulder, as she vanishes into the mist.

"Witches," Damon grumbles, turning his face away from the road and back to mine, reaching out a hand and clasping it around my own. There is something cold, solid and round between our hands, and tears spring to my eyes when I realize it can only be one thing.

"You keep them alive," he demands, intently holding my gaze.

"I will," I choke out around the lump in my throat, as tears fall from my face onto his.

"See you on the Other Side, brother," he whispers with his final breath, as his eyes slip shut and his body goes still, his hand falling out of mine.

I am left alone, with nothing but my memories, a seemingly impossible mission and my brother's daylight ring in my hand. Closing my eyes, I can feel the switch closer than ever, tempting me with the promise of blood and detachment, but I made a promise to save a life. One that Damon died for. I owe it to him to keep my word.

_**-TBC-**_

* * *

_My apologies for any tears that were shed while reading. I assure you many were also shed while writing and editing! Hopefully, there's still some love left to share in the review box below. And if you need a pick me up after this, Chelley's just updated "Uncovered" and Kate posted a very sweet one-shot, "Yours, Always", earlier this week._

_Also, as a special thank you for your incredible support on TLC and FT over the past few months (and because I made a deal with Taylor (somethinprettty), one of the best fanfic fangirls out there), Chapter 2 of this three-shot will go up tomorrow and Chapter 3 the day after that. Daily updates, no waiting! Enjoy the three-day angst fest ;)_


	2. Waiting

**Course Correction**

**By: Layla Reyne**

**A/N:** Thanks so much for the reviews, alerts and favorites and for the twitter frenzy over the first chapter! As promised, here's the next installment. The final part will post tomorrow. Hope you're enjoying the daily updates. With a story like this, I wouldn't want to leave you hanging.

_Continued love and appreciation for Sandra (dutchtreat), Chelley (chellethebelle), Kate (This Is My Escape), Nia (Niadk) and Kat (delenaispainful) for being awesome beta / pre-readers. Chelley and Kate's WIPs – Uncovered and Four Lettered Lie, respectively – are great reads. Check them out if you haven't already! _

**Disclaimer: The characters and other things from The Vampire Diaries are not mine. All due credit to the rightful holders.**

* * *

_**Chapter 2 - Waiting**_

Sitting on the left bank of the river, I wait for fate to pull one over on us. I am certain that at any minute now one of the Gilbert vehicles will come barreling down the road and go careening through the guardrail. Our plans never work; there's no reason to believe this one will. All we've done is delay the inevitable.

At midnight on the third day of my vigil, I think that maybe the moment of truth has finally arrived. I hear a car approaching rapidly – rubber spinning furiously against pavement and gears shifting into overdrive – but when it finally comes around the bend and into view, it is the very last vehicle I expected to see. My feet are moving before the impossibility of the situation catches up to my brain, and I find myself standing in the middle of the bridge, Damon's Camaro slamming to a stop less than a foot in front of me. That's when I hear it, guitar power chords and Jon Bon Jovi's voice pouring out of the open car windows, and any lingering doubts I had about Bonnie's spell being a complete and total reset vanish.

"He'd stake you, if he were here," I shout over the music, cracking a smile for the first time in days. "You know that, right?"

Killing the engine, my original blonde best friend steps out from behind the wheel, slamming the door shut behind her. "But he's not, is he?" Lexi replies with a sad smile, her eyes drifting to the bourbon bottle full of ashes dangling from my fingertips.

"No, I guess he's not," I answer, the fleeting moment of happiness I felt at seeing her fading as my eyes follow her gaze, swallowing hard as I look down at what's left of my brother.

Lexi's arms wrap around my shoulders. "I'm so sorry, Stefan."

"Thanks," I choke out, returning the hug before stepping back and eyeing her curiously. "What're you doing here?"

"A Bennett witch found me. Said you might need a friend."

"Bonnie," I fill in the name for her.

Lexi nods, leaning against the hood of the Camaro. "Yeah, I think that was her name. She said Damon was gone, and that I needed to get here for you as soon as possible. I went by the Boarding House, but you weren't there. I looked all over town, and then I found Damon's car a few miles down the road. What's going on, Stefan?"

Shaking my head, I settle next to her, rolling the bottle of ashes between my hands. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me," Lexi replies, hopping up onto the hood of the Camaro and making herself comfortable, just like a kid getting ready for story-time. This is no fairy tale, though.

Hesitating, I worry that letting anyone else in on the secrets of our past, present and future will compromise the spell, but Bonnie was the one who sent Lexi to me. She knows there are no secrets between us. Lexi has always been the keeper of my sanity, and right now, I'm dangerously close to the edge. I think about how everyone else is gone, about the daunting path ahead, and it's too much to bear alone. So I tell Lexi everything, unburdening my heart and soul, and by the time I'm done, as the sky is turning from black to blue, there are tears streaming down her face. I never expected Lexi to cry over Damon's death, and the chuckle that escapes my lips earns me a watery "Fuck off" and a swift slap to the upper arm from my confidant.

Sniffling, she pulls her sleeve over her hand and uses it to clean off her tear-stained face. "So, are you going to do what he asked?"

"I'm going to try," I reply honestly, because that's the best I can say at the start of this journey.

"Well," Lexi begins, jumping off of the hood and grabbing one of my hands, tugging me over to the bridge railing. "Let's start with the easy part," she says, her eyes glancing down at the bottle of ashes in my other hand.

"Easy," I scoff, because tossing this bottle into the river means I have to finally accept for the first time in one hundred and fifty years that Damon won't be here to antagonize me, won't be here to challenge me at every corner, won't be here to save my ass or pull me back from the edge. Letting go of my brother for the foreseeable future is the furthest thing from _easy_.

"I'm sorry," Lexi whispers, correcting herself. "That's not what I meant."

"I know," I reply somberly, squeezing her hand before releasing it, so that I can hold my brother in both of mine this one last time. His ring digs into my hip through my jeans pocket, reminding me that he's not completely gone, that a part of him will always be with me. With those few ounces of silver and lapis lazuli reassurance, I palm the bottle firmly with one hand, throwing it like a football into the water, repeating Damon's final words to me.

"See you on the Other Side, brother."

We silently stand there for several minutes, bidding Damon farewell, until the first car of the early morning drives up to the bridge and honks its horn, demanding that we move the Camaro out of the middle of the road. Reclaiming my hand, Lexi drags me back to the car, leaving me at the driver side door as she climbs into the passenger seat and covers herself from the morning rays. Taking a deep breath, I tilt my head back and mutter an "I'm sorry" to the sky, to him on the Other Side, before sliding behind the wheel.

Once we're on the main road with the radio volume cranked up high, Lexi turns to me with a smile. "Where are we off to?"

"Chicago," I tell her, turning the car away from the rising sun, headed west through town toward the interstate.

"What's in Chicago?" she asks, rubbing her hands together with excitement. Chicago was always one of her favorite places. Concert venues galore. But I'm not headed there for music this time. I've got a different sort of entertainment in mind.

"Katherine."

* * *

Four weeks of concerts later, Lexi leaves with her mate, Lee, to intercept Rose and Trevor. While Damon and I may have drawn unnecessary attention to Elena, it was Katherine and her sire that led Klaus to her doorstep. I am banking on the hundreds of years of friendship between Lexi and Rose to be enough to divert her and Trevor. Those two have been running for five hundred years; surely they can steer clear of the Originals for another sixty or so.

I stay behind in Chicago, waiting for Katherine to find me. Searching for her would be pointless; she won't be found until she's ready to be. She will be harder to deter, her instinct for self-preservation honed to deadly perfection. But now I know her Achilles' heel, my phantom future in Mystic Falls having taught me a thing or two. Katherine is lonely, so very lonely, and I will use that to my advantage if that's what it takes to fulfill my brother's dying wish. I am ready to accept the destiny that's been staring me down since the day Ms. Pierce stepped out of that carriage in 1864.

Word of Damon's death is bound to have reached her by now. Lexi and I carefully, deliberately, spread our cover story that Damon died to save her life. It's close enough to the truth to sell – Damon sacrificing himself for a woman, one that I happen to love. Same story, different verse – the eternal struggle of the infamous Salvatore brothers. Only three people – myself, Lexi and Bonnie – plus the witches on the Other Side, know the truth – that Damon died for another woman, another much deeper love. But after Lexi confessed her dalliance with my brother, the irony was too good to pass up. I'm sure he's somewhere on the Other Side, alternating between a smirk at my cleverness, because it's exactly the kind of shit that he would pull, and puking his guts out at such a repugnant notion.

In any event, it should be enough to get Katherine's attention, and she will come, refusing to believe Damon is dead until she hears it from me. So I sit and wait, on my usual stool at Gloria's, nursing a glass of generic whiskey. When I walked in the first night after Lexi left, the silver-haired witch gave me a sad smile and pulled a bottle of Damon's favorite bourbon off of the top shelf. I've moved on to lesser quality swill by now, as the days continue to pass with nary a sign of Katherine. Last call comes at 2:00AM each night, and I go back to my secret second home, pretend to sleep and start all over again the next day.

Until I arrive home one night and find the lock on my apartment broken. When I push open the door, my eyes land on the slender brunette sitting at the small, dining table, her profile glowing eerily in the moonlight. Her perfectly manicured curls cascade down her back, her stiletto-booted foot hangs over one knee and her hands rest atop her crossed legs, twirling my brother's ring around her thumb. The rest of her form is unnaturally still, the reset having restored her vampirism, as I expected.

My waiting is finally over.

"Katherine," I whisper from the doorway.

Damon's ring clatters to the floor, rolling beneath the bed, as she turns her head and locks her gaze with mine. Relief floods her wide brown eyes, and my fingers dig into the doorframe, rage coursing through me. Every ounce of anger that I have buried since my brother's death is suddenly at the surface, zeroing in on the woman who cursed us to this existence in the first place. Turning away, I slam the door shut behind me and press my forehead and palms against the cool wood, struggling to rein in the monster her response has awoken.

There's a sudden whoosh of air and in the next instant, I smell her perfume beside me and feel her palm settle in the crease between my tense shoulders. "Stefan," she says, her voice calm and firm. The wood beneath my hands splinters, my fingernails digging into it, as I brace for what I know she is about to say. "I had to be sure."

_Be sure that it was Damon who died. Be sure that it wasn't me._

I pin her to the bed before she can say another condemning word, my arm across her throat and my body pressing hers into the mattress. The beast she created is on full display – blood filling my eyes, veins crawling down my cheeks, canines elongating. Katherine doesn't flinch, only stares up at me with unapologetic brown eyes, and the monster within me refuses to be held back any longer.

My lips crash against hers, a furious clash of lips, teeth and tongues, as I bring all of my anger to bear on her. And she takes it, matches it, gives it back in spades – kiss for kiss, thrust for thrust, bite for bite – as clothes are ripped, bodies are joined and blood is shared. As angry as I am – at the witches, at my brother, at her – she is the only one who truly understands. Katherine knew Damon and me before, knew how close we were, knew I wouldn't survive without him in this undead life. She made sure I wouldn't have to, giving him her blood and his daylight ring. She knows how lost I am without him. Wiping away my tears as I pound into her at a punishing, inhuman pace, she tells me to "Let go", and I do, drowning my anger and grief in the release that she offers – in her arms, her body and her blood.

After my anger and body are spent, we lie together in the darkness, neither of us breaking the silence with breaths or words until the sun's rays begin to stream in through the window at dawn.

"You weren't surprised to see me," Katherine says, propping her chin on my sternum and looking up at me.

"I was going to bury Damon beneath the Church, with you," I lie. "A Bennett witch told me the truth. The tomb vamps are all dead, by the way."

"Good," Katherine nods, before her gaze softens so slightly that only someone who knows her as well as I do would see it. "How'd he die?" she asks quietly, before her voice takes on its typical harsh edge. "And don't feed me that bullshit story about saving Lexi. He fucked her and left her to fry on a rooftop. He sure as hell wouldn't die for her."

"He died saving the woman he loved," I answer simply, choking back tears as I run my fingers through her wilting curls that shimmer in the sunlight.

Rolling her eyes, she lays her cheek back down on my chest while tracing the outline of my tattoo with her nails. "One hundred fifty years later, and he's still making the same mistakes."

Shrugging off her hand, I grip her fingers tightly, drawing her gaze back to mine. "Not a mistake this time. She was worth it."

"My boys," Katherine harrumphs, easily yanking her hand free and slinging her arm across my chest, tucking herself firmly against my side. "Destiny's a bitch," she murmurs against my skin before drifting off to sleep in the morning sun.

I realize that our conversation just now is the first time I've thought about Elena since I walked through the door last night and found Katherine waiting for me. I spent months, _years_, comparing Elena to Katherine, constantly fighting to distinguish them instead of accepting their similarities, appreciating the Petrova fire that Damon was so fond of, that he never shied away from. But the reverse does not hold true for me. Katherine is just Katherine; she is not Elena. I suspect Damon felt the same way about Elena. Maybe that's why he's on the Other Side, having died for _his_ doppelganger, and I am here in the arms of mine, the one I was meant for.

Katherine and I spend the next three decades together – feeding, fighting, and fucking – until eventually I screw up. Royally.

On May 23rd each year, I get a phone call that I make sure to take in private, far away from Katherine's prying ears. Sometimes the call is ten minutes, other times it can go on for hours, as Bonnie fills me in on the latest occurrences.

How the September after I left, on the night the comet passed over Mystic Falls, she enlisted John Gilbert's help to stake Anna before the vengeful vampire could even step a foot into town. That same night, she and Sheila used Emily Bennett's crystal to open the tomb beneath the Church and exterminate the last witnesses to Katherine's escape, cementing the lie I told her months before.

How Alaric Saltzman came to Mystic Falls looking for the vampire who killed his wife, and Bonnie convinced him that that man – my brother and the best friend Ric would never know he had – was dead. I couldn't help but laugh when she told me they shared a bourbon that night at the Grill, only to be interrupted by Jenna, whose tirade on underage drinking came to a screeching halt when she noticed the handsome man at the bar.

On our call the next year, Bonnie told me that Jenna and Ric were married, but not without John Gilbert's assistance again, putting Isobel down in the history teacher's classroom the night before the wedding.

As each phone call comes to an end, I am overwhelmed with guilt. Guilt for the burden Bonnie is forced to bear, the last centurion of a future past, fighting tooth and nail against a fate that keeps knocking at our door. Guilt for not recognizing the extraordinary lengths Damon went to in handling all of these complications the first time around. But then, at the end of each call, Bonnie tells me a location, and I know that she's giving me Elena's current whereabouts, reminding me of my burden, my destiny. She doesn't tell me anymore about Elena, and I don't ask. I hang up and do whatever it takes to keep Katherine as far away from Mystic Falls and Elena as possible.

Ironically, it is my own selfishness – the thing I wrongly accused my brother of time and time again – that leads Katherine right to her. We're in Rio for Carnival, celebrating my successful 'deprogramming' as Katherine calls it. She has successfully trained me to feed from the vein without blacking out, without turning into the Ripper. It is a freedom like none I have ever felt. As Katherine sways to the music of the club we're in, feeding on her fresh meal of Brazilian male model, I wander over to the bar, ordering up a bourbon. More than anything, I wish Damon were here with me; I'd even welcome an 'I'd told you so' and his infuriating smirk. Toasting skyward, I down the shot in one gulp before pulling out my phone, intending to call Lexi, but then I think better of it, deciding not to tell her that Katherine succeeded where she never could. There's only one other number I know anymore and my fingers are dialing it on autopilot.

"Stefan?" Bonnie's voice whispers over the line with alarm.

"I did it, Bonnie," I shout to one of the few people who can fully appreciate what a monumental accomplishment this is.

"Did what?" she replies curtly.

"The Ripper is gone," I say, tears springing to my eyes. "It's really gone."

"Stefan, that's wonderful," she says, her voice softening. "But you shouldn't have called."

"I know," I reply, my glee fading as reality quickly sobers me up. "I just needed to tell someone who understood."

"I'm really happy for you, Stefan," she says sincerely, before chuckling lightly. "Who would have thought…"

"Thought what?"

"That Katherine would end up being the best thing for you."

"Yeah, surprised me too," I admit, before lowering my voice. "How is she?" I ask, certain that Bonnie knows I am no longer talking about the elder Petrova.

"She's happy too," Bonnie replies, and I can hear the smile in her voice. "I'll talk to you in a few months, Stefan," she finishes, before the line goes dead.

"Thank you," I whisper with a smile to no one, slipping the phone back into my pocket.

Turning around, I find Katherine standing right behind me.

"Who was that?" she asks, sidling up to the bar next to me and flagging down the bartender, ordering us two caipirinhas.

"Just an old friend," I cover nonchalantly. "I wanted to share the good news."

Leaning toward me, Katherine's lips graze my ear, and my breath catches in fear of her response. "Why don't we get out of here and really celebrate," she purrs, and when she pulls back, her eyes are dark with lust and shining with pride.

Our drinks forgotten, she grabs my wrist and drags me back to our hotel room, and we 'celebrate' well into the morning, until she passes out and I finally breathe a sigh of relief.

I should have known better.

Winter arrives in June and Katherine suggests we head north of the equator to New York City, claiming she is homesick for American accents and American blood. The last words Bonnie spoke on our call in May were San Francisco, and our latest intel on Klaus suggests he is in New Orleans, lording over a vampire horde, so I figure that New York is safe enough.

We're there less than a week when Katherine comes home one afternoon with a flyer for what she says will be an all we can eat buffet.

At Billy's.

I remember Billy's. I remember the story Lexi told me about her and Damon's six-month switch-rehab gone wrong there. I remember picking him up there one morning after he'd made the same mistake with Elena and she'd driven off with his precious Camaro, the same car I left in Gloria's care ages ago. I remember Damon calling me the night before and telling me about one of Will's repeat customers – a five-foot-seven brunette runner, a vampire who needed more identities than others.

Katherine is preparing to run.

I don't understand the why or the where until I confront Will a week later. Trading on his friendship with Damon and his lingering sadness over his friend's death, it doesn't take me long to convince him to spill. Handing over Katherine's file, I open it up and my heart sinks. There are copies of two passports – Kelly Perkins and Elizabeth Smith, the latter a digitally aged picture of the former – a one-way plane ticket for Kelly from Newark to San Francisco and one-way tickets for each of them from San Francisco to New Orleans.

Having overheard me in Rio, Katherine did what Katherine does best. She investigated and found her loophole out of a life of running. Self-preservation was her dominant human instinct – magnified by her vampirism – and I was a fool to think I could somehow change that most basic part of her.

Glancing down at the papers once more, I mentally note her departure date, a month from today, before thanking Will and returning to my betrayer. I act my ass off for the next month, all the while noting the little things I hadn't before – her absences, longer each day, clothes disappearing, packed away somewhere else, and above average feeding, in case there's no time later – until the day arrives that she sneaks out of our bed at dawn.

I wait fifteen minutes and then hop out of the window, eschewing human transportation in favor of vampire speed. This is no time to be prudent, especially when I need to get ahead of her, and I know exactly where she is at all times, thanks to the tracker I put on her car. She parks in one of the long term parking decks at Newark Liberty International Airport, and I am on her heels, figuratively and literally, snapping her neck before she even gets to the elevator. She never saw me coming.

When she wakes, we're miles away in the woods, and I am kneeling over _my_ doppelganger with a stake. Her eyes go wide, struggling and hissing against the vervain-soaked ropes and wooden stakes that pin her to the ground. I was ready to spend eternity with this woman, having accepted my future, my destiny with this particular Petrova. But as I hover over her with a deadly weapon, I grimly wonder if perhaps what I am truly fated for, doomed for, is to kill the people that I love.

"You're going to choose a woman you've never met over me?" she grits out between clenched teeth, betrayal flashing in her eyes. Katherine has no idea that in another life I did meet Elena, loved her, and lost her. But this isn't about me choosing Elena over Katherine.

"No," I answer, shaking my head, as my eyes well up with tears. "I am choosing Damon, and this is what he wanted."

"Of course you choose Damon," she laughs bitterly, before her brow furrows in confusion, considering the last part of my declaration. I see the moment it all comes together in her mind. Her eyes widen, the crease lines in her forehead smooth out, and she relaxes against her restraints. "She was the girl? The one he died for?"

"Yes," I answer around the lump in my throat, the tears finally spilling over and running down my cheeks.

"Good for him," Katherine smiles serenely, and for the first time ever, I believe that maybe she really did care for my brother after all.

"Yeah, she was," I say softly, brushing the hair off of Katherine's forehead. "And you were for me. Thank you."

"You're welcome," she says, before closing her eyes and exhaling one final time, resigned to her fate. "Do it."

And just as Bonnie followed Damon's order all of those years ago, I follow Katherine's now, driving a stake into her heart and securing Elena's safety, Damon's dying wish, for a little while longer.

* * *

Winter has arrived in Chicago by the time I return, having double-backed at least a dozen times on my trail after leaving New York. The trees are bare of leaves, an icy wind whips through the skyscrapers and big, wet snowflakes fall from the cloudy, grey sky. It is cold, just like the ring and necklace in my pocket and the heart in my chest.

The inside of Gloria's is warm, though. The décor has changed, but the witch behind the bar looks like she's barely aged a day, giving me that same sad smile as when I first reappeared after Damon's death. Instead of reaching for the whiskey this time, she turns to the coffee machine behind the bar.

"I'm sorry, baby," she says sincerely, placing a steaming cup of black coffee on the bar in front from me.

Wrapping my hands around the ceramic mug, I let the heat seep through my skin, before lifting it to my lips and taking a long swallow, savoring the way it warms my insides and gets the stagnant blood moving again. Setting the mug back down, I look up and meet her sympathetic gaze. "How do you always know?"

"Witches talk," she shrugs, picking up a towel and hand-drying a few freshly washed bar utensils. "And so do dead vampires."

"How much did he tell you?" I ask, unsurprised that Damon continues to move his chess pieces from the Other Side.

"Enough," Gloria replies, her eyes filling with sorrow and pity, as she places one of her hands over mine.

I have to look away before the weight of my past, both of them, derails my current plan, one that I hope will buy Elena another few decades. But there's one thing I have to be sure of first.

"You were," I start, and then correct myself, "Maybe still are, Klaus's favorite witch. Why haven't you said anything to him?"

"I may have been his favorite, but he was never mine," she answers, the disgust obvious in her voice.

"Do you still have his ear, though?" I ask, confident in her loyalty, but wondering now if she has the credibility with Klaus to pull this off.

"Tell me what you need me to do," she says with a sly smile.

Sliding into the shadows at the other end of the bar, away from the afternoon sun that streams in through the large windows above the booths, I pull Damon's ring and Katherine's necklace out of my pocket and place them on the bar top.

"Get a message to Klaus," I request, removing my own ring and adding it to the pile. Pushing the three pieces of spelled lapis lazuli across the polished wood to Gloria, I look up to meet her curious stare. "Tell him the last Petrova and the Salvatores are dead."

"And if he asks how you died?" she replies, warily eyeing the jewelry.

"The truth," I shrug. "For love. Anyone who knows the history of the Salvatore brothers will believe it."

"Alright," Gloria nods, picking up the jewelry and dropping the lot in her sweater pocket. "I suppose you'll be wanting a new daylight ring, then?"

"No," I tell her quickly, before I can change my mind. "It's less likely that I'll be seen this way." And if I'm being honest with myself, it's what I deserve for wasting so much time in the light. This is my penance. "No more cheating, no more hiding from what I really am," I say, more to myself than to her. Katherine got me halfway there, teaching me to feed without toppling over the edge, but this final step is mine to take alone.

"What you are, Stefan Salvatore, is a good man." Gloria smiles warmly, laying a gentle hand on my shoulder, before removing it and reaching into a drawer beneath the bar. Pulling out a set of car keys, she drops them into my palm with a wink. "Kept it running for you... And what do you know, I already installed UV-tempered glass."

"Thank you," I smile in return, giving her hand a parting squeeze. "For everything."

As I pull onto the freeway in Damon's Camaro, a true classic by today's standards, I'm surprised at the sense of freedom I feel – a tiny bit of weight lifted by the absence of our daylight rings. I thought I would feel lonely without that last piece of my brother, but this car is as good, if not a better, reminder of him, of the spirit with which he embraced his undead life.

I spend my next thirty years trying to live by his example – truly accepting what I am while learning to appreciate, to love, the darkness.

Until one May 23rd comes and goes without a phone call. Bonnie hasn't missed a call in sixty years. By noon the next day, I've crossed the border into Virginia, headed back to Mystic Falls, the last location Bonnie gave me, when a text message from her number appears on my phone.

Two words that I have waited a lifetime for.

"Come home."

– _**TBC – **_

* * *

_Chapter 3 – "Hello" – will post tomorrow, and yes, Damon and Elena will be back ;) In the meantime, I would love to hear your thoughts on Stefan's journey so far. I'm also wondering how many of you will pick up on the reference to a certain HBO show..._

_Thanks for reading!_

_Follow me on Twitter: laylareyne_


	3. Hello

**Course Correction**

**By: Layla Reyne**

**A/N:** _You guys really are the best! Appreciate you hanging in here with me to the end, especially Sandra (dutchtreat), who has tirelessly beta read through tears, and Kate (This Is My Escape), Nia (Niadk) and Kat (delenaispainful), who've been kind enough to pre-read. Also, a very special shout out to Chelley (chellethebelle), who has listened and cried with me about this story idea for months. Thank you for encouraging me to stick with it. Now that the angst is out of the way, bring on the "Uncovered" teehee-ing ;) _

As for the HBO show alluded to in the last chapter, it was The Sopranos episode, "Long Term Parking." Might be a wink to another show in this one ;) Also fixed the E/K passport issue in Chapter 2; thanks for alerting me. Now, on with the finale…

**Disclaimer: The characters and other things from The Vampire Diaries are not mine. All due credit to the rightful holders.**

* * *

_**Chapter 3 – Hello**_

It's late when I enter Mystic Falls Hospital, having waited for the sun to set and for visiting hours to wind down. I'm surprised so little has changed. Sure, the machines have advanced, the walls have been repainted and the nursing staff has turned over a couple of times, but the halls still lead to the same places, the recycled air still reeks of death and antiseptic, and sorrow still lurks around most corners. It's as depressing as ever.

Entering the ICU, I look down at my phone, double-checking the room numbers. When I received that first message from Bonnie, telling me to come home, I was elated for all of five seconds before the realization of what it must mean hit me like a freight train. I suspected worse – that Elena was already dead – but a second text came through a minute later, directing me to two rooms here at the hospital. I breathed a temporary sigh of relief, but I knew the worst was yet to come – saying my final goodbyes to the two strongest women I have ever known.

Turning the corner, I see a petite young woman with light brown skin and dark curly hair hunched over in a row of chairs in the hallway, and I think for a moment that perhaps there's been another reset. But then the girl's head jerks up, startling at the sound of my boots skidding to a stop in the otherwise empty corridor, and dark brown Gilbert eyes stare back at me.

"You must be Stefan," she says, stretching as she stands, before approaching me with a tired yet warm smile. "Grams said you were coming."

"Grams," I chuckle at the familiar nickname. I shouldn't be surprised, but never in a million years did I ever think to associate it with Bonnie.

"She said you'd laugh at that," the young woman grins, holding out her hand. "I'm Melody, Bonnie's granddaughter."

"Pleasure to meet you, Melody," I reply, shaking her hand. Her fingers tense in my grasp, but she doesn't snatch them away like her grandmother did so many years ago. This Bennett witch has been brought up with the awareness of what she is and mostly likely what I am, too. She nods slightly, confirming my suspicion, before pulling her hand away and shoving it into her back jeans pocket.

"Mels, who's there?" a deep male voice calls from behind her.

Looking over her shoulder, I nearly gasp out loud at the sight of the man who steps into the hallway from the room next to Bonnie's.

_From Elena's room._

If my brother had not been turned, if he'd lived a normal, human life and grown old, this is exactly what I imagine he would have looked like in his fifties. Thick black hair peppered with grey, a five o'clock shadow to match, and pale skin that's lightly lined with age, most noticeably around his clear blue eyes.

Turning slightly, Melody calls back to him. "It's fine, cuz. This is Stefan. Grams is expecting him."

"Oh, sorry," the man says, walking toward us. "Protective instincts and all when it comes to my little cousin here. I'm DJ. Thanks for coming."

He's extending his hand to me, and I'm shaking it on autopilot, because my entire mind is pre-occupied by two simple letters – _DJ_ – and all of the implications that come with them. I don't know how it's possible, but there's a man standing in front of me, shaking my hand, who looks exactly like an older version of my dead brother and who is presumably named after him.

"Did you know my mom, too?" he asks, nodding toward the room with the nameplate that reads 'Elena Gilbert', my presumptions all but confirmed. If I had breath to lose, it would certainly be gone now. As it is, it's taking everything in me just to remain standing.

_How is this even possible? _

I'm saved from answering both the spoken and unspoken question when another woman enters the hallway from Bonnie's room. This one is older, but the combined Gilbert-Bennett traits are unmistakable – light brown skin, dark brown eyes, curly hair – only Jeremy and Bonnie's daughter has inherited her father's height, standing almost as tall as me.

"I'm Amelia," she says, extending her hand, likewise tensing slightly at first brush before relaxing. "My mother's been waiting for you, Stefan. You can go on in."

"Thank you," I reply, at a loss for more elegant words, as my eyes dart among the three of them, taking in the lives that have sprung up during my absence.

"We'll just be in the cafeteria," Amelia says, slipping an arm through each of DJ's and Melody's, leading them down the hallway.

"Nice to meet you, Stef," the man throws back over his shoulder, and I wave politely while my insides twist painfully into knots, another all-too familiar nickname shooting daggers into my soul.

"Stefan," I hear Bonnie quietly whisper from inside of her room, knowing that I will hear her. "Get in here and I'll explain."

Pushing open the door to Bonnie's room, my confusion quickly gives way to concern as I see the cuts and bruises covering her body and the array of equipment monitoring her vitals. But I don't need the heart monitor to tell me that hers is getting weaker by the minute. Taking her offered hand in mine, it is noticeably cooler than it should be. Another sign that her end is near.

"How?" I ask, but to which question I don't know. How did she and Elena end up in the hospital? How did the dark hair, blue-eyed man I just met come to be? How did she manage to keep them all alive for the past sixty years?

Withdrawing her hand, she gingerly pushes herself up in the bed, grimacing at the pain even the slightest movement seems to create. "Where would you like me to start?"

"DJ," I answer automatically, and then immediately regret not asking about her and Elena's condition first, but I can't get the impossibility of the younger man out of my head.

"Adopted," Bonnie answers, and I release the breath I had been holding, before collapsing into the chair next to her. "The resemblance is remarkable, isn't it?"

"It's scary," I admit, propping my elbows on my knees and hanging my head in my hands.

"You wanna hear the real kicker?" Bonnie says, patting her palm against the mattress to draw my gaze back to hers. "She rescued him from an abusive home."

It takes me a few extra seconds to pick my chin up off of the floor and form words. "How could she have possibly known?"

"She remembers Damon," Bonnie replies, before rushing to clarify when my eyes go wide. "She remembers him from that night, on the road, and I don't think a single day has passed that she hasn't thought of him. She did everything that he wanted her to do – moved to Denver, graduated at the top of her class, went to Stanford. She settled in San Francisco, writing for a food magazine and working on her own short stories that she published under a pseudonym. She's been very successful, but she never married."

"Never?" I gasp, finding it unbearably sad that someone with so much love to give never found another person to share it with.

"Her heart had already been stolen by a stranger she met at sixteen," Bonnie shrugs. "She dated a few guys and was even engaged once, but she broke it off a couple of weeks before the wedding. The day she was supposed to get married, she was at the hospital, distracting herself with research for a story, when they brought in DJ, nearly beaten to death by his alcoholic father."

"Fate," I mutter, amazed at the way it can twist and turn and still bring a person to exactly the place he or she is supposed to be, or as close to it as possible in our case. Elena saved my brother, in more ways and more times than any of us can possibly know, and then, after he gave his life for hers, she rescued a boy who looked just like him. She raised DJ with the unconditional love of a parent – a mother – that Damon was so unjustly deprived of. She gave him the life – the love – that my brother deserved.

"That boy was her whole world," Bonnie smiles warmly, pointing to her phone on the bedside table. Grabbing it, I hand it to her and watch as she taps at the screen a few times before passing it back to me. A picture of Elena, DJ, another dark-haired woman and two little boys is displayed on the screen. "And then her grandsons came along and there were more little raven haired, blue-eyed babies to love."

"She was happy," I choke out around the lump in my throat, as tears well up in my eyes, a few escaping down my cheeks.

"Yeah, she was."

"How did you two end up back here?" I ask absently, as I continue to scroll through the pictures of Elena and Bonnie's families.

"She came home for Jeremy's funeral, last year."

My fingers still and I set aside the phone, scooting closer to the bed and taking Bonnie's hand in mine again. "Bonnie, I'm sorry."

"It's okay," she replies, squeezing my hand. "He lived a good long life, with no tattoos," she chuckles. "We had three beautiful daughters, and a bunch of grandkids, all girls too. Lots of little witches that terrorized Mystic Falls for years. Thank God DJ had boys and that they visited often, or else Jeremy would have been totally outnumbered."

"You stayed here?" I ask, surprised. Granted, Bonnie never mentioned her whereabouts during our calls, but I'd always assumed she was with or near Elena.

"We did," she answers with a nod, taking back her hand and lacing her fingers together over her stomach. "Ric and Jenna were here, and it was easier to keep an eye on things."

"But Elena?"

"Had constant supervision," she reassures me, before rolling her eyes and tilting her head toward the empty corner behind me.

_Damon._

"He's here?" I ask, bolting upright from my chair and turning around, staring at the corner as I move closer to it. Anyone walking by would think it a strange sight, me facing a corner like a kid alone in time-out, but for the first time in so many years, I know with certainty that I am not alone. I always figured Damon was checking in, and Gloria confirmed it for me that once, but actually knowing he is here, in the same room, fills me with a sense of peace and belonging that I haven't felt in ages.

"He says you did good," Bonnie relays for him, before making air quotes with her fingers. "Even if it took you thirty years to stake the bitch."

A quip like that would have usually earned him an eye roll or the middle finger but all I can do now is tilt my head back and laugh – really laugh, deep from within my chest, from within my soul – for the first time in decades.

"Be nice," Bonnie playfully grumbles from behind me, and a pillow goes whizzing by my ear into the corner. He must have made some comment about me sounding like a hyena, which is true at the moment, and it only makes me laugh harder.

"It must have been tough, listening to his constant color commentary," I wheeze, catching my breath and reclaiming the seat next to Bonnie's bed.

"You have no idea," she sighs dramatically. "But like I said, he was with Elena most of the time."

"And when he wasn't?" I ask, curious to know in whose care my brother would trust his precious charge.

Bonnie's face suddenly becomes serious, and I get that same sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that I had right before they told me Damon met Elena first. There's something big here that I'm missing, and it feels like the other shoe is finally about to drop after all these years.

"Ric, Caroline, Tyler and then Jeremy," she answers, and I'm back on my feet and pacing at the foot of the bed, raking my hands through my hair. "That's why I called you back here," she continues, looking down at her hands and twiddling her thumbs. "There's always a catch; something the witches leave out."

Shaking my head, I brace my arms against the end of the bed, furrowing my brow. "I'm sorry Bonnie, but I don't follow."

"There was a twist, to the spell. Time reset, but the past didn't go away. All of those things – our past lives – still happened. So…"

"When they die, they still go to the Other Side," I finish for her, dropping my head between my outstretched arms. What was that I was saying about fate putting people where they were supposed to be? We can't escape our destinies, for better or worse, it seems. "Do they remember?"

Bonnie nods and my stomach lurches. "Vicki was the first, but she didn't linger long, satisfied that Matt and Jeremy were safe, and Damon convinced her to move on. No such luck with Ric, though."

"How'd that go down?" I ask, raising my head and a skeptical eyebrow.

"About the same as it did the first time," she smirks. "Damon was there, waiting to help ease the transition, but as soon as Ric's memories returned, punches were thrown, bourbon-less apologies were made and you know the rest. They took turns, alternating watches over you and Elena, until you killed Katherine. Then Damon recruited her to be your shadow."

"Katherine's here, too?"

"Yep, though she's pretty pissed about that whole staking thing, and Damon constantly rubbing it in doesn't help," Bonnie chides, narrowing her eyes at the corner before turning her gaze back to mine. "Caroline joined the team a few years ago, bringing Tyler back into the fold, and then Jeremy last year."

I don't know why I'm surprised that my brother built an army on the Other Side to protect his loved ones. His plans may not have always worked, but that was rarely his fault. It was usually Elena or Caroline or me or someone else going off course that threw things into chaos. When it comes to rallying the troops, Damon's been a pro at it since before our transition. Still, there's one thing that doesn't follow…

"With all of those protectors, how did you two end up here?"

"Stefan, sit down," Bonnie orders, nodding her head toward the chair again, and that brick in my stomach plummets to the floor. Reaching for my hand, she takes it between the both of hers. "Elena's dying, cancer." I recoil, physically and mentally at the notion, but Bonnie holds firm. "She stayed here after Jeremy's funeral, wanting to be around family and home."

"But your injuries?" I ponder aloud, looking over her battered body again. Her cuts and bruises are consistent with an accident of some sort, and she said Elena had cancer, not her.

"I'm getting there," Bonnie replies, her eyes averting to the corner once more before coming back to settle on mine. "He says you always did suck at being patient."

Turning in my seat, I glare angrily toward the corner. "I've been patient for _sixty_ fucking years."

Tugging at my hand, Bonnie forcibly brings my attention back to her. "Stefan, we had to wait until the time was right."

"And I suppose that time is now?" I snap. "When you're both on your deathbeds?"

Ignoring my spiteful tone, she withdraws her hand and carries on with her explanation. "You remember what else Damon told her that night?"

"To never go over the bridge."

"Elena's been afraid of that bridge her whole life, avoided it just like Damon told her. But she's staring down death now, and she didn't want to be afraid anymore."

My anger vanishes instantly at the thought of Elena, knowing her death was near, bravely tackling it head on, in the only way she knew how, on her own terms. "She was ready for the end."

Bonnie nods, her eyes slipping shut as her forehead creases at the painful memory. "I took her for a drive across the bridge, there was a bird, I swerved and we went through the guardrail. DJ and Amy were in the car behind us. With her magic and his strength, they were able to get us out, but we're frail old women. The damage was done."

Fate granted us numerous reprieves through the years, but it always led us back to our first reality. Me spending thirty good years with Katherine, long enough for her to banish the worst part of me before self-preservation led her to betrayal. Bonnie marrying Jeremy, giving birth to generations of Bennett witches, before he was taken from her. Elena finding and raising DJ, giving him the love my brother never had, before Wickery Bridge claimed her life again.

Another thought occurs to me, Damon's final words to Bonnie. "If you die first, the spell will lift."

"And Elena will remember," she finishes, her eyes drifting over to where I'm sure my brother is wearing his rarely-seen hopeful face.

"But what about your families?"

"The witches promised that this timeline is firmly rooted, that it won't be disturbed."

"Then why do you need me?" Anything I could offer at this point seems like it'd be too little, too late.

"You remember Elena's dominant trait, the one that was magnified by her vampirism?"

"Her compassion," I answer without hesitation.

"And all of her acts as a vampire are going to come rushing back when she hits the Other Side," Bonnie explains. "Elena needs to know the good that is waiting for her so that the bad memories don't overwhelm her."

From the pictures on Bonnie's phone, to the son I met outside, to the brother she brought back to me, the one who sacrificed himself for her, the answer is obvious – the man Elena has loved in both of her lifetimes.

"Damon."

"He connects both of her realities," Bonnie confirms, smiling softly as tears fill her eyes. "She needs to know. I've done my part. Now help her remember, Stefan. They deserve to be happy."

Nodding, I take her hand in mine, holding it gently. "You have always been the selfless one, the true hero."

"You didn't turn out half bad yourself," she replies with a wink, before closing her eyes and relaxing into the bed, exhaustion overcoming her.

"It was an honor knowing you, Bonnie Gilbert."

* * *

Standing in the hallway, I stare at the nameplate on the room next to Bonnie's, running my fingers across it – 'Elena Gilbert'. Never married, never knowing that Salvatore should've been her last name in another life.

Taking a deep breath, I push the door open and step across the threshold, quietly closing it behind me before laying my eyes on Elena for the first time in sixty years. Her features are wrinkled, her body is noticeably thinner and her skin is frighteningly pale, a combination of her illness and the accident, but she still has a head full of thick long hair, albeit grey, which is gathered into a ponytail and draped over one shoulder. And when her eyes flutter open, they are the same deep, soulful brown that I loved so well.

She stiffens momentarily, surprised by the stranger in her room, but then she tilts her head slightly and looks at me pensively, her brow furrowed and lips pressed together. I stand still under her scrutiny for a few tense moments before a small smile turns up the corners of her mouth and she relaxes back into the bed. "I know you, don't I?"

Whether it's instinct or her spell-repressed memories coming to the surface as Bonnie's condition weakens, I don't really care nor do I bother to hide my face-splitting smile, because I am finally home, here in this hospital room with Elena and my brother. I am sure he is standing right behind me, and I swear I can feel a swift kick in the ass, as he snaps me out of my trance and propels me forward into the room.

Elena keeps her eyes locked with mine as I lower myself into the bedside chair next to her. "It's rare that anyone comes in here and smiles when they see me like this," she says, weakly holding up her bandaged and IV-laden arms.

"I just haven't seen you in a very long time," I tell her honestly, reaching out a hand and placing it over hers.

"Remind me of your name," she whispers, turning her hand over and squeezing mine.

"Stefan," I reply, my teary gaze transfixed on our joined hands. "Stefan Salvatore."

"There were two of you," she says, and my eyes dart back up to hers, an audible gasp escaping my lips. "You have a brother."

"I had a brother," I correct, glancing over at the empty corner where I am sure he is standing, arms folded across his chest and smirking proudly at his girl. "You remember the stranger you met when you were sixteen?"

"Damon," she responds instantly, her eyes slipping shut for a moment as she replays the memory. "Of course, I never forgot him."

"He was my brother," I say, holding her hand firmly as her eyes snap open, filled with confusion. "And he died to save you."

It's her turn to gasp, clutching my fingers tightly as tears spring to her eyes. Some part of her knows what I'm saying is true, just like she knew I was someone from her past when I walked through that door. She just doesn't understand why and which past. "How is that possible?" she asks, shaking her head and becoming increasingly agitated. "And why would he do that?"

"Because he loved you more than life itself," I answer simply, reaching out my other hand to wipe away the tears that have spilled onto her cheeks.

"I'm sorry," she whimpers, looking up at me pleadingly. "I don't understand."

"Let me show you," I offer, and when she nods, I rise from my chair to sit on the edge of her bed. "Close your eyes," I tell her, bringing both of my hands to her temples and silently thanking Katherine, for giving me the power to do this, and Bonnie, for allowing me this chance to give Damon and Elena their lives back.

Closing my own eyes, I summon up the memory of that day at the Boarding House when I thought they first met, and she did too at the time, showing this Elena lying in the hospital bed how close her former self stood to Damon in our parlor, how she could barely take her eyes off of him, how she gave him that intrigued half-smile-half-smirk that I now recognize from their real first encounter on the deserted road. The way her cheeks flushed, her breath hitched and her heart raced as Damon kissed the back of her hand goodbye.

I jump next to the first of many acts of heroism, of selflessness, that I witnessed him carry out for her. Strutting onto her front porch in his leather jacket and a rare white t-shirt, Damon offered Elena what I couldn't give, what she wanted – a way to make her brother's pain go away. It was always the two of them, a bond recognized and forged that night as older siblings who innately understood and accepted each other's willingness to do whatever it took to protect the ones they loved.

After that, I take her to the moment when I first grasped the extraordinary depth of her compassion, as she wrapped my brother in her arms in a dark, smoky graveyard, bravely offering a grieving, unhinged vampire solace when all of his hope was lost. Hanging my head, it was also the moment I knew that history was doomed to repeat itself.

A commotion in the room next door distracts me – the alarm on Bonnie's heart monitor going off, a rush of nurses and doctors coming down the hallway, frantic orders being shouted – and when I turn my attention back to Elena, I'm assaulted with a rush of memories that are not my own. Her and Damon arguing on a country roadside, negotiating the first of many truces between them, followed by a bouncing, happy Elena taking shots at a bar and playing pool, a startling glimpse of Damon's pre-tragedy Elena, and then they are outside behind the bar, Elena begging Lexi's mate, Lee, for Damon's life.

I'm about to fast forward to the instance a few weeks later, when she begged Bonnie and me for the same thing, as Damon was trapped in the burning basement of her father's medical office, but Elena pushes back again, showing me a familiar dance, only this time my brother takes the lead. The two of them twist and turn, their gazes locked and the rest of the world all but forgotten, as Damon gets the dance that I once robbed him of. But if I learned anything from my thirty years with Katherine, it is that that dance in 1864 was meant for me, but this one – this dance and this woman - are meant for Damon. I even see it – the moment he realizes that he is in love with Elena, a small smile turning up his lips before he lifts his head a little higher and finishes the dance with confidence. I was the same way once, when I danced with my true love.

As if Elena can read my thoughts, we're suddenly in her room and Damon is quietly putting words to his feelings, confessing his love, and I almost pull my hands away in shock when he says he doesn't deserve her, but I do. False words I would continue to repeat to him over and over until the day he died for her, when I realized just how wrong I had been.

But Elena's cold hands cover mine, holding them to her face, as she shows me what must have been his second confession, as he lays in her arms in his massive bed, dying from a werewolf bite, and it is so reminiscent of the scene I witnessed years later that my heart clenches painfully for what my brother must have gone through, on both occasions.

I can't help but show her how he got there, arriving at the scene of the sacrifice amongst Bonnie's thunder and lightning, killing Klaus' witch before picking up Elena and carrying her first to me and then to safety. Elena responds with a quieter version of the same theme, as Damon finds her in a hospital room, much like this one, the night after I attacked her. Unhooking her blood bags, he picks her up and she wraps her arms around his neck, burying her face against his shoulder. I can feel the overwhelming sense of relief and safety that comforts her in that moment.

We go on like that for several minutes, sharing our memories of Damon. Mine are typically loud, more obvious moments – how she slapped him the night of the sixties dance and he vowed to protect her, their banter and arguments I overheard in the Tennessee mountains, watching them dance together again at the Mickaelson's Ball, her impassioned plea to save him after he'd been kidnapped by Rebekah, the abject sorrow on his face and in his voice when he burst into the morgue after she'd driven off of Wickery Bridge a second time. Hers are the quieter moments, ones that had I or anyone else observed, would have made the notion of any sire bond or other mystical connection preposterous – a bedtime exchange about their day trying to save me, before Elena passes out peacefully next to my brother, a simple conversation over a daggered Original about trust and the lengths to which Damon will go to keep her safe, Elena comforting him after I slipped through his grasp, reminding him that they always survive.

And they do, even when parted by magic and time.

I hear Bonnie's heart monitor flat line next door and the doctor pronounces time of death, just as another rush of Elena's memories flood my mind, the levy having finally been broken – a surprisingly measured kiss on her front porch, followed by a much more passionate one in Denver, and I'm suddenly glad I never asked for those details. Damon offering Elena his blood in a desperate attempt to keep her alive, and the pleasure, the connection, she derived from it. More dances – at a frat party, when Elena was happy and free, in front of the parlor fireplace, when Damon was the only one standing by her, and in his room, the night after our high school graduation, when they were finally at peace in their love for each other. They were always dancing – around, away and back together – like twin flames.

As things begin to get fuzzy around the edges and I hear Elena's heart begin to beat erratically, I make one final push, showing her the circumstances of her last death – her taking the bullet for Caroline, Bonnie explaining the spell, Damon holding her tightly and his simple, heartfelt goodbye – before we're back on the road again, at that point in their conversation where I know my brother changed something.

"So, Damon, tell me. What is it that I want?"

He swaggers closer, holding her curious gaze. "You want a love that consumes you. You want passion, an adventure, and even a little danger."

Snatching my hands away from Elena's face, a cry rips itself from my throat, sorrow for my brother too overwhelming to bear. Those are the words that he died for; the ones that he thought sent Elena running after a life of tragedy. For as many times as he accused me of being an idiot, Damon was the biggest idiot of all. If what Elena has shown me just now, if what I have seen for myself, if what Elena has accomplished in this second life of hers, has taught me anything, it's that that fire – those desires – always lived inside of her, burned inside both of the Petrova woman I have known and loved, and that for all the death and heartache Elena may have endured, she also found the love of her life. And their love was strong enough to withstand, to even influence, a whole alternate reality.

"Stefan," Elena says softly, bringing me back to myself. "Unplug the machines, please."

"Elena, I can't," I tell her, shaking my head.

"Damon's waiting for me on the Other Side, isn't he?" she asks, staring up at me with hopeful brown eyes, as tears of relief stream down her face.

"He's always been waiting for you," I answer, wiping them away gently with my thumb.

"Well, then," she sniffles, taking my hand in hers and squeezing my fingers. "Let's not keep him waiting any longer."

Nodding, I lean over and place a lingering kiss on her forehead, before standing from the bed and unplugging the machines like she asked. When I turn back to her, she is looking up at me peacefully. "Thank you, Stefan, for everything," she says, before closing her eyes with a soft smile. "We'll see you soon."

It only takes a minute or two for her breathing to fade and her heart to fall silent, my muffled sobs the only sound left in the room. When I know that she is gone, I wipe my eyes and drop the keys to the Camaro in the pocket of DJ's coat that's hanging on the back of the door. Opening the window of her room and jumping out, I am running the moment I hit the ground, racing to my final resting place as fast as my feet will carry me.

When I get to the cemetery, Lexi is already waiting for me on the steps of the Salvatore crypt. Besides Bonnie and Gloria, she was the only other person who knew that I was still alive. I texted her the minute I turned the Camaro back around to Mystic Falls.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" she smiles sadly, standing and walking toward me with a wooden stake in her hand. "You're welcome to stay with me and Lee; it'll be just like old times."

"I'm tired, Lexi," I sigh, and her eyes immediately well up with tears. She knew why I called her here, knew why I asked her to bring a stake. "I just want to see my brother again."

"I don't know why," she chuckles, her voice watery, as she pulls me into a crushing embrace.

"Yeah, you do," I reply, hugging her back. "You always did, always trying to save us from ourselves, for each other."

"I knew neither one of you would make it long without the other," she says, pulling back and cupping my cheek in her hand. "I'm proud of you, Stefan."

"Thank you," I say, before closing my eyes and giving the order, relieved that it is finally my turn to say the words.

"Do it."

* * *

I come to as someone smacks me on the cheek, hard. Opening my eyes, I find myself on my back in the cemetery, staring up at _my_ doppelganger.

"It's about time. I thought you'd never get here," Katherine grumbles, rising from her crouched position and offering me her hand. She jerks me up onto my feet, giving me a quick, hard kiss before her hand connects soundly with the other side of my face. "That's for staking me."

"You deserved it," I reply, as she steps closer and winds her arms around my neck.

"Yeah, I know," she says, rolling her eyes before leaning in for a more languid kiss. "I'm sorry," she mumbles against my lips.

"You're forgiven," I smile, because despite her betrayal, I would not be here, would not have been able to complete my mission, without her. And because I love her.

"Hey!" a much missed voice barks. "You gonna kiss him all day?"

Katherine huffs as she leans back, shooting a murderous glare over her shoulder at Damon. "You're one to talk. You've barely come up for air since Elena got here."

At the mention of Elena, I glance around the clearing and see her a few feet away, being pulled into hugs by the rest of our family – Ric, Caroline, Tyler, Jeremy and a recently arrived Bonnie – all in the form of our pre-spell selves.

"Shut it," Damon snarks at Katherine, bringing my attention back to him. "Hello, brother," he grins, before enveloping me in a hug, which I gladly return.

"You did good, little bro," he says, slapping me hard on the back. "I always knew that you could do it."

"Always?" I ask, leaning back and cocking a skeptical eyebrow.

"Okay, fine, most of the time," he concedes with a smirk.

"What happened there?" I ask, noticing a similar red handprint on one side of his face.

"Petrova women," he sighs, rolling his eyes. "Can't make them happy either way."

Elena flashes over to us, giving me a hug, before stepping in front of Damon and glaring up at him. "I slapped you, because you made me live sixty years without you, and you didn't bother to ask me first if I wanted to," she says, poking an accusatory finger at his chest.

"I'm not sorry," Damon replies smugly, wrapping his hand around hers and entwining their fingers.

"Fine, then I'm not sorry either," Elena counters, using their joined hands to draw him closer, her expression becoming affectionate. "I'm still not sorry that I met you, I'm not sorry that I had two beautiful lives and I'm not sorry that I've been in love with you for both of them," she finishes decisively, rising up on her toes to give him a passionate kiss.

It's a declaration I'm familiar with, but whereas the last time I heard it, I thought my world was ending, this time, it fills me with joy, because I know the struggle was worth it. It brought us right here, together, all of us where and with whom we are meant to be.

"Ugh," Katherine groans. "I think I'm going to vomit."

Pulling apart, Damon tucks Elena against his side and then puckers his lips at Katherine. "What's wrong, Kitty-Kat?" he teases. "You want a kiss too?"

"Uh, uh," I tell him with a playful shove, wrapping an arm around Katherine's waist. "Mine."

"Cavemen," Katherine and Elena mutter at the same time, their wide brown eyes connecting and sparkling with amusement.

"Glad we finally sorted that out," Damon grins, before leading us over to the rest of the group.

There are squeals and yells, tears and hugs, as our family is reunited. Looking around, I notice a few members are missing, though. Leaning over, I whisper to Bonnie, "Where are Matt and Jenna?"

"Waiting for us," she answers with a smile.

"Waiting where?"

"The other, Other Side," Damon answers, waggling his eyebrows.

"Oh my god, you're still an ass here," Bonnie bemoans.

"But what about your families?" I ask her, thinking about DJ, Amelia, Melody and the rest of the Gilbert-Bennett clan that I saw pictures of on her phone.

"They have plenty of witches to protect them, and there are no more Petrovas," she answers, placing a gentle hand on my arm. "They're safe; we can move on."

"Speaking of," Ric pipes up. "I have a very angry wife waiting for me. Let's get going."

Ric leads the way out of the cemetery, with Caroline and Tyler and Jeremy and Bonnie, hand in hand, close behind, disappearing as they step past the gate. Damon leans down to whisper something in Elena's ear, earning him a shove to the chest and then a quick kiss, before she grabs Katherine by the wrist and follows the rest of the group into thin air.

Finally, it's just me and Damon, standing in front of our family's crypt, the both of us truly happy for the first time in our abnormally long lives.

"You ready to shuffle off this immortal coil once and for all, brother?" Damon asks, jabbing me in the ribs with his elbow.

Instead of the joking retort he is probably expecting, I grip his shoulder firmly and say the one thing I've wanted to say to him since the day he died, the thing I realize now I should have said to him every day prior to that.

"Thank you."

"For what?" he replies, lifting one eyebrow.

"For saving all of us," I answer, hoping that he can see in my eyes and hear in my voice just how sincere I am in my appreciation. We are all here because Damon made it so, through his perseverance, his selflessness and his love.

"No problem," he shrugs nonchalantly, but his blue eyes glisten with pride and unshed tears. He swallows hard before putting that infuriating smirk that I missed back into place and slinging his arm around my shoulders. "Now, how about we get the hell out of Dodge?"

"Lead the way, brother."

_**THE END**_

* * *

_And that's all she wrote… __***Tissues and hugs for everyone***__ Thank you again __**SO MUCH**__ for taking this little journey back into canon land with me. Hit review below and let me know what you thought._

_And for those asking, the next chapters of The Left Coast and Four Tragedies are already underway. Follow me on Twitter – laylareyne – for updates, spoilers, etc. Thanks for reading!_


End file.
